The Mexican
by yue kato
Summary: 4x2. Slash. The boys in the world of the movie...
1. The Mexican (Part 1)

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The Mexican (Part 1)

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yue kato

210501

"Thank god, we're finally here!" The braided, chestnut-haired man dumped his bags at the door and proceeded to rush around the room, opening doors and cabinets, before finally pausing at the curtains drawn across the large floor-to-ceiling windows. Throwing back the curtains, he gave a gasp of awe. "Oh man, look at the view!" From his vantage point up on the 72nd storey, where the penthouse suite of the hotel was located, the entire illuminated cityscape of Greater L.A. was revealed, like millions of stars scattered over the land, stretching as far as the eye could see. 

Duo pressed his face to the glass, trying to absorb the various twinkling lights without having to peer through the reflection coming from the lamps within the room. "Hey, I wonder if I can see Vegas from here..." He trailed off as a pair of arms wrapped firmly about his waist and lips descended upon the side of his neck, gently nipping.

Turning around, he met those lips in a searing kiss, neither willing to part until they both had to gasp for breath. Resting his chin on his boyfriend's shoulder, enjoying the feel of the hands idly caressing up and down his back, his gaze swept the rest of the room. The large violet eyes lit up at the winding staircase that led up to an additional level where he could just glimpse the foot of a king-sized bed.

"You really didn't have to get such a grand room, you know," he said, looking up to meet the clear blue eyes of the other, running his fingers through the soft, silky blond strands. "We were only going to stay for a night only."

"This is supposed to be a trip to remember, and I want only the best for you. Besides, it's not as if I can't afford it," Quatre replied, closing in for another deep kiss.

"Yeah," Duo retorted, breathlessly. "But I was hoping we could leave more money for the casinos..."

"Isn't there anything more interesting to do than gamble here?" The blond young man released his partner, slowly, seductively making his way to the staircase. Placing one long slim hand on the railing, he turned back, blue eyes smouldering. "Now, what was it I recall about christening every bed from here to Nevada?"

View forgetten, Duo bounded across the room into Quatre's arms, winding his arms tightly around the Arabian's neck. "That was just a figure of speech, my good man. But if you want to prove it true, I ain't gonna stop you."

***

The low beeping roused Quatre from the comforting embrace of sleep. Groaning, he dragged himself back from a wonderful dream involving him, Duo, and lots of whipped cream to find himself entangled within the silk sheets of the bed, Duo half on top of him, and his entire left side still asleep under Duo's weight.

The beeping continued, demanding to be attended to, and Quatre began to slowly remove himself from the bed without waking the other man. Duo stirred and mumbled a little at the loss of his human pillow, but settled down again when Quatre slipped a real one into his arms instead.

Pulling on his pants, he padded down to the lounge, and tapped a few keys on the comm unit. Static showed up on the screen for a moment, and then it cleared and he was staring back into a pair of emotionless cobalt blue orbs. "Winner."

"Heero Yuy," he acknowledged. "What is it?" He kept his words brief, more than a little annoyed that he was being contacted when he was supposed to be on vacation with Duo. He had dealt with the other man on occasion before, but the scale of his demands could have easily been handled by one of his sisters. Unless they had decided to shunt it to him to spoil his plans with Duo - again. /If I find out it's one of them.../

Preoccupied with his own internal grumbling, he lost most of what Heero was saying except for the tail end of his sentence. "-- Treize has a job for you."

That got his attention. "What does he want?"

Heero didn't answer, and a moment later, he was looking upon the refined features of the Russian aristocrat. "Mr Winner, I hear that you are able to locate rare items, even if they have been declared missing for a long period of time."

"At the right price, anything can resurface."

"Good, just what I wanted to hear. Now, Mr Winner, there's a gun that I've been longing to add to my collection for years," a fanatical gleam rose in his eyes, "and I was hoping you could obtain it for me."

"I have to know what exactly it is first." But in his mind, he was already calculating how much he could charge for this transaction. He had no doubt that Trieze Khushrenada was Heero Yuy's financial backer, and everyone knew that the Romefeller Foundation was very, very wealthy indeed.

"The information is being sent to you right now." A chime indicated a file packet was being received by the comm unit. A few more taps on the keypad brought up the image of a silver pistol with a longish barrel, intricate engravings upon the handle, which was reinforced with some sort of black stone. Closer observation revealed that the engravings were in the pattern of an angel-like bird.

"The Angel of Peace."

"Yes, the gun that triggered off the final war which steered the Sank Kingdom onto its path of absolute pacifism. It has been a collector's dream for nearly 200 years." Quatre could practically hear the drooling in this voice.

Not replying, he keyed in a number and sent it. 

Treize raised an eyebrow as he received it, but apart from that, Quatre could not detect any other reaction. "I realise that you have a policy of non-bargaining, but isn't this a little steep, even for the Angel of Peace?"

Quatre shrugged. "Take it or leave it." He hoped that Treize didn't see through his nonchalant facade to the absolute excitement thrumming underneath. A lead had surfaced a few days ago in Mexico that the gun had been seen in one of the small local towns, and one of his operatives had been going down to retrieve it. He'd known he had struck gold then, he would have the highest bidders at his feet, but he had not expected an offer so soon. No matter, he was aware that the number of people who had the capability of out-bidding Khushrenada could be counted on less than 3 fingers, and none of the others were gun fanatics that he knew of. This was as good as it was going to get.

"You can't blame a man for trying," Treize replied. "Very well, on one condition."

"What?" Quatre asked warily.

"I want this operation carried out by you personally, no delegation to the underlings. And Heero goes with you. I want to make sure that the gun comes to me in perfect condition."

With the amount of money he would be getting, he wouldn't have minded if his entire staff threw down everything else to search for the firearm. "Fine with me. When do you want it?"  


"By next week."

"Next week?!" Shit! Shitshitshit!!! He knew better than to argue with the likes of Khushrenada over such a demand: it was expected. But the only way he could get it to him within the week was if... he postponed his vacation with Duo. Yet, if this deal fell through, he would finally be free... "Fine. I'll meet Heero tomorrow at the spaceport."

"Very good. I like doing business with you, Mr Winner, though, I must say, you drive a hard bargain." The nobleman smiled, and Quatre thought he saw something malicious lurking behind it. It made him vaguely uneasy. "I shall leave Heero with you to hammer out the details." 

Heero's image flickered back on and after a few more minutes of discussion, Quatre switched off the unit, slowly climbing back up to the bed. Sitting down on the side of the bed, he let his eyes run over the glorious being that lay there, shiny chestnut spilling over the sheets and pillows, swathing parts of his body, while leaving bare creamy expanses of smooth skin, just waiting to be worshipped by him. He was so beautiful, and he thanked Allah everyday that this amazing being had come into his life.

Sliding back into bed next to Duo, he savoured the sensation of Duo cuddling in his arms, inhaling his unique scent, struggling to remain awake as long as possible. He had the feeling that it wouldn't be happening for a long time after he broke the news to Duo. Closing his eyes, he expelled a long, drawn-out sigh. 

Duo was going to kill him.

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End part 1


	2. The Mexican (Part 2)

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The Mexican (Part 2)

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yue kato

210501

"You're going to WHAT???"

Quatre winced, he was very sure they could probably hear Duo all the way to Vegas, considering the volume of his voice at the moment.

"Please, Duo, you have to understand. This is the very last time--" he offered feebly as he beat a hasty retreat down the staircase to regroup. However, it had slipped his mind that by doing so, he had left the higher ground to his passionate, impetuous, and now thoroughly enraged partner.

Random items began raining down on him, and he vainly tried to catch some of them before giving up and just concentrating on making it out alive.

"The last time? Did I just hear you say the last time?? That was what you said the LAST time, and the second last time, and the third last time. Everytime I think I finally get to spend a little time with you, something crops up. Well, I believed you the first 5 times when you said it was gonna be the last. But I'd be a complete idiot to even think that you're going to keep your word again. So tell me, you bloody liar, WHEN IS THE LAST TIME GONNA BE THE FUCKING LAST??!!"

There was a pause in the raining debris, and he lowered his arms from above his head in relief, trying to muster some form of argument. His shirt hit him smack in the face, and he pulled it on, thankful it wasn't something harder.

"Duo, you know how my sisters are, the only way to get them off our backs is if I fulfill my end of the deal with them!"

"Our backs? You mean YOUR back. Your sisters hate me and the feeling is mutual."

"Can't you just be reasonable for a minute? I'm trying to get them to accept us here, and even if it means I have to hit 60 billion credits by the end of this month, I'm going to do it! Then they'll have no choice but to accept that we're gonna get married." It made perfect sense to Quatre: why couldn't Duo just calm down and see his point of view?

Duo gripped the railing hard for a moment, his knuckles turning white. Then he flung loose and paced up and down, his long hair whipping behind him with every turn. "I! I! I! That's all I ever hear. 'I can't make it this time, I have a deal coming up.' 'Can we cancel? This job is really critical.' 'Can you try to get along with my sisters? It's really important to me.' It's just all about you, isn't it, Quatre Raberba Winner? I've tolerated all the times you stood me up, I've tried to be nice to your sisters, though God knows that they're just bigoted bitches who'd rather you be with any hag than with me." He stopped in mid-pace, spinning around to look down at Quatre, eyes flashing. "Well, this is the final straw, Quatre. The job or me. Make your choice."

Quatre's heart sank. It was even worse than he thought. Duo was issuing ultimatums now. Gazing up at the stormy glare coming his way, such an unusual expression on a face more accustomed to smiles and laughter, he could feel himself being pulled in different directions. 

With the money Treize was paying for this operation, he would hit 60 billion credits with millions to spare, and he would have fulfilled his sisters' unreasonable demands. He had been hoping to resolve their conflict peaceably. He knew that his sisters had expected him to marry a girl and carry on the family line and he'd been fully planning on doing that, even though he'd realised he was gay since he was 12. His sisters had worked hard to maintain their company after their parents had died, and the eldest, Iria, had been more like a mother than sister to him. The last thing he wanted to do in the world was disappoint them. But the day he met Duo, he had known that there could be no one else for him. 

So one day, he'd introduced Duo to his 29 sisters. It was like tossing dynamite into a fire, the results were explosive. Way too explosive. He still shuddered at the memory of that day. 

He was at cold war with his sisters for months, much as it hurt him - he hated the rejection implicit in their words and actions. So when Iria finally suggested that if he could bring in 60 billion credits for their company within the next 12 months, they would let him do what he wanted, he had grabbed it like a lifeline.

That had been the beginning of his problems with Duo. To take on the extra deals he was making, he had to cut down on his time with his beloved, and though the American was pretty agreeable initially, his patience was gradually worn thin. Then the arguments started. At times he wondered if it wasn't for the best to just give it up and run away with Duo, but he just couldn't let go of his ties to his family.

But if Duo was going to leave him, what was the point of doing all this? The strategist in his mind was plotting away even as he looked up pleadingly at Duo, hoping to get him to soften. 

The deal with Treize... was a once-in-a-lifetime chance. It signified the end of his family conflict and a happy-ever-after with Duo. Staring up at the gorgeous heart-shaped face, he hardened his heart. 

He couldn't let go of this opportunity. He'd just try to explain and win Duo back after this. "I'm sorry, Duo. I have to go. Please, believe me, this really is the last time."

Duo released a gasp of shock. He hadn't really thought Quatre would really go through with it. "Fine, then. Go!" His breath hitched, and he choked back a sob. "Just go! Take your filthy stuff and go! I'll forget I ever met a JERK like you!!" He punctuated his last sentence by throwing Quatre's bag over the railing.

Quatre caught the bag with a 'whoomph'! Silently, he picked a few items off the floor and added them to his bag. Then, he gazed up one last time at the love of his life, and walked out of the door.

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End part 2


	3. The Mexican (Part 3)

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The Mexican (Part 3)

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yue kato

220501

He was beginning to seriously regret his decision.

It had all seemed to go smoothly at first. He'd met Heero Yuy at the spaceport at the appointed time for the shuttle that would take them to Mexico City. His mood was already shitty from the earlier fight with Duo, and the other man's terse comments and impassive attitude did nothing to improve it. But he'd told himself to bear with it. The sooner this was over, the sooner he got paid, and the sooner he could get back to Duo and start damage control.

The troubles began when he realised the small local town they were supposed to head to was literally that. Small. And local. There were no tube lines into it, and the nearest station was 10 miles away. 

After stepping out of the tube station, he'd been dismayed to realise that the only form of transport they had into the town of La Augusta was from the car rental outlet. That is, if the piles of metal junk they had could still be considered as automobiles. /Boy, Duo would be in heaven if he could see this now. God, I hope I can still get him to listen to me when I get back. I don't know how I'm going to go on if he decides he doesn't want to see me again.../ He cut off his musings before he could sink further into the pit of self-pity, and forced himself to concentrate on the task at hand.

If Heero had been shocked at the lack of advanced technology in the area, he definitely didn't show it. He'd just glanced over the entire lot before indicating a blue monstrosity near the gate to the owner of the car rental. "It's the best of the lot," he informed Quatre as he headed to the car, opening the door on the driver's side.

"Aa," he replied non-commitally. They all looked the same to him. /Duo would know-- Damnit! Stop doing that!/ he ranted at his left brain.

They had trundled out of the car lot, and turned onto a narrow highway. The deserts and orange sand stretched out to either side of them for miles. The hot wind blasted their faces through the open windows but Quatre didn't mind: it reminded him of the heat back on L4, and for the first time since he'd taken this accursed trip, he felt a little better.

Thres hours later, as the sun was sinking in a crimson ball of glory over the western horizon, they emerged from a tunnel through the a mountain of rock and entered La Augusta. Despite the darkening sky, Quatre was determined to get the gun that night. They stopped outside the bar whose address his operative, Abdul, had given him. 

He looked over at Heero as the dark-haired man killed the car's engine. And it occurred to him that he probably couldn't operate the vehicle very well, since it was so ancient. A thrill of unease shot down his spine. Pushing it away, he indicated the bar. "My contact is in there. All we have to do is get the gun from him."

Heero nodded and turned away to get out of the car, but Quatre did not miss the sudden gleam in those cobalt blue eyes. It was the closest thing resembling emotion he'd seen the entire time that he'd ever dealt with Heero Yuy. Senses going on full alert, Quatre stepped out of the car as well.

The interior of the bar was dimly lit with some sort of sickly greenish light, and visibility was reduced even further by the cigarette smoke and fumes of whatever drugs were being consumed. But that did not stop all the heads from turning to stare expressionlessly at the two strangers that had entered the building.

Ignoring them, Quatre stalked up to the bar, asking the bartender in a low voice, "I'm looking for H. He's got something for me."

The bartender gave him a onceover, lazily drying a shotglass. Quatre caught his gaze and held it steadily. After half a minute, the bartender looked away, eyes darting to the darkened corner at the back of the building.

Following the direction indicated by the man, Quatre could vaguely make out five shapes hunched over a table. "Thanks." Stepping away, he left a decent 'tip' on the counter that was palmed by the bartender before he'd walked two feet.

He approached the table, Heero a silent shadow behind him. As he got nearer, the smoky haze cleared a little to reveal five mismatched individuals that were well, if he was being honest, quite ugly, really. There was one guy who had a metal tripod claw for a hand, and a lens that covered one of his eyes completely. Another one had beady eyes, a large nose and stitches across his cheek under a mushroom haircut. The one sitting beside him had what seemed to be a fake nose. The last two men appeared to be the more normal-looking of the group. One was a stocky man, bald except for a thin fringe of black hair across the back of his head. And the last was completely bald, olive-skinned, and looked large enough to give Rashid, his head of Security, some competition. 

They did not seem to notice his and Heero's presences, intent on their card game. He cleared his throat. "I'm looking for H." There was no reaction for a moment, and he thought they were going to ignore him, until the semi-bald man looked up.

"Who's looking?"

"Raberba."  


H stared at him for a while longer, than wordlessly put down his cards and disppeared behind a flap of cloth covering a doorway set in the wall near the table. Minutes later, he emerged with a small-silver white case. He handed it to Quatre, who opened it, lifting out the silver firearm. Even in the dim light, it shone with an unearthly sheen. It was quite beautiful, he had to admit, Treize was rather justified in pursuing it so. He placed it back in its case, and clicked the lid shut, activating the coded lock.

He was heading out with Heero when he heard a voice behind him. "It's cursed, you know. All the hands that it has passed through now belong to the dead." He turned to find the owner of the voice. It was the man with the metal claw.

"I'll take my chances."

"We did warn you." The guy with the stitches spoke up as well. 

Then, as if on cue, all five of them picked up their cards and continued their game as if no interruption had occurred at all.

Outside the bar, Heero and Quatre stood on opposite sides of the car. Surreptitiously, Quatre slid the slim dart gun hidden up his sleeve down into his palm. His gut instincts had always been deadly accurate, which was why he was so good at what he did, and the vibes he'd been getting off Heero the past half hour were going from bad to worse.

He reached out to open the car door, when he heard the click of a gun being cocked. He slowly looked up into the barrel of a gun, aimed for his heart. His gaze travelled up the arm holding the gun, up to the expressionless features of Heero Yuy, expressionless except for his eyes, which were now twin orbs of blazing cobalt fire.

"Give me the gun." The voice was soft, but utterly deadly.

Quatre had no doubt that Heero would kill him if he had to, but this wasn't the first time his dealers had decided to double-cross him. Without hesitation, he pressed the trigger of his dart gun, releasing the dart into the tyre. He could hear the almost inaudible hiss of the air escaping. He didn't think that would delay Heero for long, but it would give him enough time to get away. Though how, he still had no idea.

Then, he heard it, a low rumble that seemed to come from a distance. He dared to let his eyes leave the gun for a moment to glimpse the twin headlights of a truck driving up the narrow road. Thank Allah! Now all he needed was a distraction.

He raised the case in front of him, directly in the path of the Heero's gun. 

"What are you doing?" He sensed a tinge of confusion. Good, that meant that his guard would be slightly lowered.

"You can't kill me, you know," he began conversationally. "The case can only be opened if you have the correct code. Any other way of forcing it open or keying in the wrong code will cause whatever is in it to be damaged. So, you have a few options. One, you could kill me, and try to force the case open. But I guarantee you, Treize will definitely not be pleased with the results..."

The rumble of the truck was getting louder. The muscles in the arm holding the dart gun tensed.

"Two, you could shoot this case, and again, I don't think you'd like what you would end up with."

The truck was getting nearer, nearer... NOW! His arm swept up, and he fired the dart, dodging just enough for Heero's bullet to whiz by his cheek. Even so, he felt the searing pain, and knew he was not leaving unscathed. He had clambered onto the back of the truck in the seconds it took Heero to get out of his duck and jump across the hood of the car to his side of the car. He saw Heero get into the car and start it, but the car jerked, instead of moving smoothly. Heero was just discovering his flat tyre.

"Or, three," he muttered to himself. "You could let me go, and maybe one day, after a million years have gone by, I won't be mad anymore at your bloody underhanded tactics and let you have the gun."

The lights of the town were soon swallowed up by the darkness of the tunnel. He slipped under the tarp covering the cargo on the back of the truck, leaning against one of the boxes. The bass rumbling of the truck soon lulled him into an uneasy sleep.

When he next woke up, it was already morning and the truck had stopped, and he heard a smattering of voices speaking in a language he did not understand. Probably Mexican - then again, was Mexican a language? Brushing aside those inane thoughts, he peered out from under the tarp. 

No one. The speakers had apparently moved away for a while. Taking the chance, he hopped off the truck, darting around the corner before pausing to take his bearings. Looking around, he saw that he was in another town, pretty similar to the one he'd just been to, just slightly bigger.

Great, he had absolutely no idea where he was. Accosting an innocent passer-by, he attempted to find out the name of the town, where he could find a comm unit, or how he could get to Mexico City. It was like a conversation between a cow and a horse. Giving up, he let the befuddled man go with a passable "Gracias". At least he didn't mangle that.

Sinking heavily on the pavement, he buried his head in his hands. God, he was stranded in the middle of nowhere, the deal with Treize was probably off, and Duo was going to leave him.

He was beginning to seriously regret his decision.

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End part 3


	4. The Mexican (Part 4)

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The Mexican (Part 4)

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yue kato

220501

Duo stared at his open "The Official Gay Guide to Touring America", reading the same line for the twentieth time in five minutes. Cursing, he slammed the book shut, brought the steaming cup of coffee on the table in front of him to his lips, and choked, almost spitting out the scalding liquid. Controlling himself, he forced himself to swallow, although he could feel the tingling burn all the way to his stomach. He cursed again.

/You have to stop this,/ he told himself. /He's gone, remember? You threw him out yourself. And you can't let an asshole ruin your well-earned holiday. Besides, God knows when you'll ever get the chance to come down Earthside again? Might as well enjoy it while it lasts./

Perfectly reasonable, in his head, that was. His still-bleeding heart informed him otherwise. For one thing, he wouldn't even BE on Earth if Quatre had not suggested it, but once the idea had been planted in his head, it had metamorphosised and mutated into his fantasy trip of a lifetime. He'd had the feeling that this would have been something special - it seemed like Quatre was preparing to take their relationship to a deeper level. Which was most likely to be true: he vaguely recalled Quatre saying something about them getting married during the fight.

/Well, Duo no baka, it's all over now,/ he released a long, despondent sigh, violet eyes blinking rapidly in an effort to stem the tears from flowing. Leaving the coffee virtually untouched, he stuffed the book back into his bag and headed to the washroom of the diner he had stopped to take a rest at.

Looking up at the mirror after splashing his face with cold water, he grimaced. His eyes were still ringed with red, and his cheeks slightly puffy after his bout of crying once Quatre had left the room. Staring at his own image, he let his vision blur, morphing into blond hair and smiling blue eyes. /Maybe he really means it this time.../ His hand reached out to touch the image, only to be stopped by cold glass. The sudden jerk back to reality almost made him want to cry again. /Yeah, and all that wasted hope will only make it hurt even more. Get that into your head, Duo Maxwell!/

He washed his face one more time and was turning to leave when the door to the washroom opened, and a bespectacled woman, her hair done up in two weird buns on either side of her head, stepped in. 

After the initial shock, Duo glanced at the sign on the closing door, heaving a mental sigh of relief that he was still in the right place. "Hey, lady, I think you're in the wrong-- whoa!!" He swiftly stumbled back when she whipped out a gun and aimed it at him, all the while bearing down on him irrevocably. "Uh... Can't we talk this over? Like without that gun pointed at me?" His backward trajectory was halted by the door to one of the cubicles. Leaning back, he fell backwards, his head grazing the side of the toilet bowl. "Shit!"

Shaking his head to clear it, he looked up to see the gun still trained on him. Then the woman bent down to grab his arm, roughly pulling him to his feet. "Look, you can have all of my money, it's in the bag. I don't have anything else on me." The gun clicked. He wisely decided not to say anything more for the moment. 

But he couldn't help himself when he was being dragged towards the door. "Hey! Where're you taking me? We haven't even met before, why are you trying to kidnap me? I don't have no rich relatives or anything. I just own a junk shop. I don't have anything valuable. Just junk - junk, you hear me?" All the while trying to jerk out of her iron grip. For a woman, she sure was strong.

She paused, and turned, raising the gun to his forehead. Duo gulped, and scrunched his eyes shut. This was it, definitely it. Oh, why didn't he just keep his mouth shut? /Dear Lord above, please forgive me for all the sins I've committed in this very short life of mine. Oh, god, this is not fair! I don't even have the chance to tell Quatre one last time that I love him--/

The sound of the gun going off next to his ear deafened him, and he nearly screamed, stopping short only when he belatedly realised that he wasn't feeling any pain. Stunned, his eyes snapped open to come face to face with smoking end of the barrel of another gun. /God, why me? What did I ever do that was so bad?/

Raising his head, he looked straight into onyx depths that gazed steadily back. The Chinese man holding the gun had his black hair pulled into a ponytail and was dressed like any typical office worker in a pristine white shirt and dark-coloured pants. The only thing out of the ordinary was the weapon he was carrying like it was an extension of himself.

Grasping Duo as well, he pulled the stupefied American half in front of him, digging the gun into his side. Duo gave an undignified squeak. "Keep quiet and don't try to run." The quiet voice brooked no disagreements. Duo knew better than to object this time.

They made their way out of the diner and into his car. "Drive." Duo quickly started the engine and backed out of the parking lot. Soon they were speeding along the highway. 

After around twenty minutes, the other man put away his gun, but the warning glance he received prior to that told him not to try anything funny. He decided that now would be a safer time to say something. "Um, where are we going?"

"Where you wanted to go. Vegas." The reply came in calm, measured tones.

"Did you just kill that woman back there?" A swift glimpse in the rear-view mirror registered the small smear of blood on his right cheek, and he looked down for a moment, but the black of his clothes masked any bloodstains that might have splashed on him. He was coming down from his adrenaline high, and had to grip the steering wheel tightly to keep his hands from trembling.

"Yes, I believe I did."

/Oh god, he sounds like I asked him if he enjoyed his lunch or something! What does he want with me?/ He decided to just come straight out and ask. If the guy wanted to kill him, he would have done it a while ago. "Why are you doing this?"

"I want to know Winner's location."

"Huh?!"

"Quatre Raberba Winner. He is your boyfriend, is he not? I want to know where he is." He could feel the dark gaze boring into him steadily.

He kept his own eyes on the road. /That IDIOT!!! What has he gotten into now?? And why did he have to drag me into it? Can't we even have a clean break? God, what on earth did I ever do ohgodwhatifhe'shurtanddyingoutthere--/ "You mean my EX-boyfriend. And I have no idea where he is." He forced his tone to remain indifferent.

"What do you mean?" A measure of agitation entered the previously calm voice.

"That is exactly what I meant. Quatre is no longer my boyfriend. We broke up."

"But h-- That does not matter," although Duo could practically feel his curiosity eating him, "I just need to know where he is."

Frustrated, Duo's head whipped around to stare at him. "Look, man, which part of broke up did you not understand? Me and Quat, we split, okay? No longer together. I have no fucking idea where he is!"

"Damnit! Keep your eyes on the road!" The Chinese man reached out to grab the steering wheel, trying to keep it steady. Duo took it as an opportunity to try and punch him and escape. Which failed miserably.

The car skidded to a stop at the roadside during their struggle, which ended with the end of the gun pressed against Duo's temple. "I will not hesitate to pull the trigger, I assure you."

Duo nodded slightly, eyes glued to the gun.

"So will you promise to behave, so I do not have to carry out this threat?"

Another slight nod.

"I did not want to do this initially, but you leave me no choice." There was a sudden flash of silver and the next instant a pair of cuffs had clicked around his wrists. He decided he did not even want to try and figure out where the man had got them from. The Chinese man stepped out of the car. "Move over."

Awkwardly, Duo shifted into the passenger seat, while the other man got out and came around to settle in the driver's seat, starting the engine and pulling out onto the highway again. Defeated, Duo slumped back into the seat. "What do you want with Quatre anyway?"

The other man gave him a sidelong glance, and after he seemed satisfied that Duo was up to no more mischief. "He split halfway through a deal he was negotiating with my... contact. We thought you might know where he is. But it appears that you don't."

"Yeah, that's right. So why don't you just let me go and leave me alone?"

"I'm afraid I can't do that. You see, even if you can't tell me where Mr Winner is, you still have one more use." He left it at that, he was sure the braided man could figure it out, he seemed quick enough.

The wheels turned in Duo's head. "You... You mean, I'm a hostage??"

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End part 4


	5. The Mexican (Part 5)

****

The Mexican (Part 5)

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yue kato

220501

As they whizzed past the sign that indicated they were still a hundred miles from Vegas, Duo was startled out of his sulking by the Chinese man's voice, slightly tinged with curiosity. "Why did you choose to use this mode of transport anyway? It is much easier to take the tube or a shuttle."

Sighing, Duo decided he might as well talk to the guy. Silence was not in his nature, and the lack of conversation, even if it had to be with the 'villain', was killing him. He was beginning to go mad from stewing in his own thoughts. "Cars are my hobby. I own a scrapyard back on L2. This was supposed to be a vacation where Quatre and I drove down to Vegas. We thought it would be a nice change," he explained dully.

"Then why were you heading to Vegas without him?"

If looks could kill, the other man might have konked over right that instant. "We BROKE UP, remember??"

"Aa."

But the ball had started rolling, and once he began, Duo found he didn't want to stop. "It was supposed to be a vacation, godammit! And what does he do? Barely into the second day, he tells me he has to go to work again, for the-- god knows how many times it's been, I've lost count. And what's worse, he always tells me it's the last time, but it's fucking not! And sucker that I am, I actually let him lead me on. But no, nuh uh, this is it! I'm not going to take it anymore!!"

The Chinese man raised an elegant eyebrow. "He does not sound like a trustworthy character. Then why did you choose to be with him in the first place?"

"Hey!" That stung. It was one thing to be ripping your own boyfriend - correction, EX-boyfriend - apart, but when it came from someone else, it couldn't help but make him feel defensive. "He wasn't always like that! It just started last year, after he got obsessed with making a lot of money, cuz he thought that by doing that, his sisters would get off his case and he could finally propose to me..." He trailed off, slowly sinking into silence. The more he said, the more it seemed like he had wronged Quatre. He resolved to keep his mouth shut - he wanted to nurse his holier-than-thou rage for a little while longer.

"If that is the situation, you could be a little more... understanding."

Duo stared at the other man. How on earth did he end up like this, getting pointers on his love life from a man, whom for all he knew, was a professional hitman? "What's your name?"

"What?!"

Duo smirked, satisfied that he had for once, managed to rattle the man. "I said, what's your name? If I'm going to sit here, listening to you critique my love life, which I don't think comes under your assassin credentials anyway, I've got to at least have a name."

The Chinese man glanced at him once, then shrugged. "Chang Wufei."

"So, do I call you Chang, or Wufie?" He'd meant to call the guy by his name, but couldn't quite get the pronounciation right. 

Wufei shot him a withering glare. "It's WuFEI!"

"Right, Wufie."

Another glare. Duo nearly giggled. The other man seemed almost... cute, when he got upset like that. "Okay, okay, chill, man! Wu...fei?"

Nodding, the self-assured mask dropped back over his features.

"Yeah, well, I can't really say nice to meet you, under these circumstances. But anyway, I'm Duo. Duo Maxwell."

"I know."

"You do?"

A small nod. 

"Oh."

Five more minutes passed quietly, with only the purring of the engine to fill the compartment.

"It's not only that, you know. What if he doesn't really want to commit? And he's just using work as an excuse? What if he's already tired of me, but he's too nice to dump me? And like the dumbo that I am, I still keep pushing myself on him?" He had to stop himself, he could sense the depression encroaching upon him by the minute.

"Do you really believe that he is so weak?"

"No." He sighed and leaned back, watching the blurred landscape zip by.

"Do you still love him?"

"What??" 

"Do you still love him? Did you leave him because you don't love him any longer? Or because you are merely angry at him?"

"I... It wouldn't have worked out anyway."

"Is that so? The way I see it, the reason why it doesn't work out is if you don't love each other anymore. If you still do, then other problems can always be solved. And they can't be solved by running away."

Duo eyed Wufei with something approaching admiration. "I have never imagined that coming from a professional hitman."

A slight flush seemed to stain Wufei's olive skin. "Is there a crime in that? We're human as well. We can be sentimental if we want to. We have emotions too," he snapped.

"I'm sorry," Duo hoped he could hear his sincerity, "I never saw it that way."

"Well, now you know."

The rest of the trip was spent in silence. Duo felt it more prudent to keep his mouth shut, he seemed to have struck a nerve there. But his mind was churning. He hated to admit it, but Wufei was right. He did still love Quatre, with all of his being, and he was quite certain that his emotions were reciprocated. But he was sick and tired of feeling like a doormat, and having the Arabian step all over him, ignoring how he felt everytime he cancelled on their time together. It made him start to feel insecure, which had led to the fights, and although the make-up sex was great, after all of that, they were back to square one again. Running away, escaping, avoiding the issue, and blaming each other wasn't going to solve anything. When this was all over and they found Quatre, they were going to have a good long talk with each other.

Decision made, he felt much better, and perked up, beginning to pay attention to his surroundings again. Wufei was cruising off the highway, turning into the exit into Vegas. "Hey, Wufie. This may sound weird and all, considering you're a kidnapper and I'm the kidnappee, but thanks. You were right, running away wouldn't have solved anything."

"I'm pleased that you have come to that conclusion. Appreciate the time that you already have together, instead of begrudging that which you do not have. Others may not even have the luxury that you already enjoy." There was a wistful note in the hitman's voice that hinted to Duo that there was a wealth of experience behind that statement.

"How did you become such an expert anyway?" He might as well probe if he could.

A small, knowing smile touched Wufei's lips. "Aa." But he did not elaborate.

Shrugging, Duo settled back, taking in the sights of the city. He would have been more shocked if Wufei had really answered. "Where are we going anyway?"

"To the spaceport. We are going to Mexico City."

"What for?" he asked warily.

"Mr Winner can be a stubborn man at times. I am sure you can help convince him to be more flexible."

"But I thought you didn't know where he is," Duo protested, heart sinking at the thought of being used to threaten his lover.

"My contact is working on that even as we speak. I'm sure that your boyfriend will be able to meet us as we step off the shuttle in Mexico."

Wufei turned into the multi-storey parking lot next to the Vegas spaceport that was located on the outskirts of the city. Switching off the engine, he grasped the cuffs around Duo's wrists, drawing them towards him. "If I take these off, I want your word that you will not try to escape."

Duo snorted. "I'd be an idiot if I actually agreed to that."

"Very well, then I'd just have to inform my contact that Mr Winner's life is... expendable."

/Shit!/ Duo closed his eyes, and drew in a deep breath. He was trapped. Sighing, he nodded. "I won't try to run away."

"I knew you would come around." A flick of his wrist and the cuffs came off.

They entered the spaceport, heading to the departure hall when suddenly Wufei came to an abrupt stop. The strangest expression crossed his face - something Duo never thought a cold-blooded killer would have. His eyes lit up, and his features softened, it seemed like he was going to smile. Then his brow creased in a frown, and he grabbed Duo's arm and dragged him behind him as he swiftly strode off. "Come on!"

They came up to a tall, slim, brown-haired man, a long fringe hiding one eye. "Trowa! What are you doing here?" Though it was soft, Duo could hear the urgency and worry in his voice.

"Trieze knows that Winner has disappeared. He sent Une to get his boyfriend. But you got to him first, as I can see."

Wufei cursed. "Yes, but not without shooting her. Does Treize know that something's up?"

Trowa nodded, but his face remained expressionless. "We might still have a chance. If we get to the gun first and give it to Marquise. Tell him to come straight to Mexico instead."

The troubled expression did not leave Wufei's features as he ran through whatever it was he was thinking of. "I guess that's the only way."

"The shuttle is about to leave. Let us hurry." 

Wufei tightened his grip on Duo's arm and turned towards the departure hall in response to Trowa's reply, but was stopped by a hand on his shoulder. He looked back, a question in his eyes. The hand on his shoulder moved higher, and the back of Trowa's fingers gently brushed over his cheek.

Trowa's impassive features mellowed, and a slight smile danced across his lips. "I missed you."

Even Duo could not deny that the smile that spread across Wufei's face was dazzling, though it lasted for less than a fleeting second. Then it struck him. "You... You... He... You..."

"Yes?" Wufei arched a delicate eyebrow, the calm veneer back in place, although his eyes still shone. "Was there a law that states hitmen can't be gay?"

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End part 5


End file.
